


Oh my squash!

by troubleseeker



Series: halloween? pumpkins!! [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Sam, Cock Rings, Corn - Freeform, Drugging, Fingering, Forced Orgasms, Gags, Happy Halloween, I'm missing so many tags, I'm so tired, Milking, Non-Consensual Bondage, Other, Pumpkins, Rape/Non-con Elements, Rope Bondage, Sacrifice Sam Winchester, corn fucking, pumpkin fucking, pumpkin fucking you
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-01
Updated: 2020-11-01
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:07:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27316762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/troubleseeker/pseuds/troubleseeker
Summary: Sam gets caught by a small town looking to please their harvest god... a harvest god who just happens to be a pumpkin .... what's a bit of drugging and pumpkin fucking between harvest spirit and sacrifice?
Relationships: Sam/Pumpkin
Series: halloween? pumpkins!! [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1994332
Comments: 7
Kudos: 51





	Oh my squash!

**Author's Note:**

> I'm missing tags, If you find one please tell me... I'm posting this at 2 am...  
> anywhoo!! 2020 pumpkinfuckery!! Sam is at it again!!

There’s a sliding scale of what Sam felt was acceptable in fall. 

Pumpkin spice- well, anything, was fine. Lates, pies, candles, lip balm. Go ham, he didn’t care. 

Decorating your porch with fake pumpkins and wreaths and whatnot. Sure. Bit tacky, but sure.

Go apple picking, pumpkin hunting, jumping in giant piles of leaves while you make hot chocolate or chili, Jesus fucking go for it.

Drugging people to offer them to a harvest god? No! Bad. Take a step back and rethink your choices.

It had happened to Dean way back when, so they  _ knew _ this shit happened in tiny forgotten towns. But how many fall deities could there be out there? Really? At least this one wasn’t a creepy scarecrow- so far.

It was a massive pumpkin. The ones they turned into boats and paddled down a river. Aesthetically surrounded by all kinds of seasonal veggies and straw. He wouldn’t have blinked an eye if a picture of the spread in some fancy magazine.

It was certainly making him blink  _ now _ . He’d strangle anyone - Dean - if they said they wouldn’t blink. No one had a fucking apple stuffed into their drug slow mouth and decided that was fucking  _ fine _ . And that was before they stripped him. 

Too sluggish and uncoordinated to resist, they’d taken every last scrap of fabric and whisked them away to God knows where. At least they hadn’t cut it all off of him. He liked those clothes.

It almost -  _ almost _ \- felt vindicating when they had a hard time getting him tied in place the way they wanted. Spreadeagled and leaning back against the massive orange thing, stem sticking out between his legs. It took quite a bit of rope to keep him standing, gravity wanted him face down in the grass, and truth be told Sam wanted to be on the grass too.

At least the abundance of fires meant he wasn’t cold as well as humiliated. Should have seen this coming. He was a fucking hunter. This was his actual  _ job _ .

He sobered up slowly as the sun set, testing the knots that held annoyingly well. Angrily eyeing the locals milling around the space and trying to eat the apple keeping him from cursing the ever-living shit out of them. 

“Carter? Carter? Carter! Don’t you what me, did you pick an ear of corn yet?”

Sam didn’t know if he wanted to be hearing this conversation, glaring daggers at Carter as he gestured non-committedly at the heap of unshucked corn near Sam’s feet.

“We can’t just  _ pick _ one! It needs to be perfect.”

And just like that, Sam got an unwanted front sow seat to a corn beauty competition. Girth length, kernel size … all mattered apparently. 

“Do we have everything? It’s nearly time, guys!”

“I have the candles, yes.”

“Did you get the deer skulls, Terry?

“Beau put them next to the back-up pumpkins.”

By the time the sun was gone, the whole thing was set up  _ just right _ , and Sam was sober as can be. Whatever they’d drugged him with, it was out of his system. 

Which meant he was fully aware when they slicked up the perfect ear of corn and shoved it up his ass. And yes, they fingered him open first but it was an ear- of- corn! In his  _ ass _ ! And it was bumpy. Thick and bumpy and distracting as hell. 

Worse, they wouldn’t leave the thing alone. Fucking him with it while the others spent ages burning herbs, making shapes with skulls and beads and candles, and marking him with melted wax. It merged into one another.

Smoke.

Pain.

Pressure.

Lines on skin.

Sweet juice running down his chin.

And eventually, pleasure. 

At some point, the corn on the cob churning up his guts stopped feeling annoying and distracting, and it became good. Probably his brain deciding pleasure was better than horror, but it was exceedingly weird to get your dick stroked by a total stranger while you were trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey on a massive pumpkin. 

Weirder still when they wrapped something around the base of his dick to keep him hard.

By the time they pulled out normal-sized halloween pumpkins he was fucking over it. Sam Winchester didn’t care anymore. He wanted out. But he couldn’t get out, cause he was tied down and Jesus Christ there were holes in the pumpkins. A nice round hole in each gourd and he knew what they were for- God help him he knew exactly where this was fucking going.

And yeah- they were making him fuck the stupid pumpkins. Cold, hard, stringy inside fleshlights pumped on his dick while he stared down at it all happening like it was some kind of hallucination. 

The abrupt exit of the corn snapped him out of it, made him look for the next thing- He couldn’t fight or outrun anything, but if he could see what was next he could mentally prepare. Get himself into a headspace where he wouldn’t freak-

He didn’t actually see it coming.

No one was near him, not even to jack him off with a minimalist jack-o-lantern, but there was something prodding at his newly empty hole. Rough and irregular, it elt so fucking alien Sam had about two inches of the thing inside of him before he realized the pumpkin was fucking  _ him _ . The giant fucking pumpkin was fucking him with its stem- a stem that was growing. 

“The Lord has accepted our offering!” Someone shouted, obviously ecstatic that this had worked. 

“Joana the receptacle!” Another voice added, pushing Joanna - apparently - towards Sam as he writhed on the ever-growing stem. 

There had to be some kind of magic involved in keeping him hard, because none of this was sexy. But when the pumpkin was shoved over his dick again, it was raging and ready to go. Almost a relief, even.

Texture wise, it was the worst- you know, everything wise, it was the worst. But somehow there was an orgasm coming. Sam could feel it in his balls. That bone-deep ache below his belly button.

Building and building till he couldn’t hold it back- head tipped back and full of the thick twisting vine, he came inside of a pumpkin. With the- twine, maybe- wrapped snug around his balls, the orgasm was wrenched from him. Not painful, but pleasure wise there was an edge to it… not that your prostate getting assaulted by an animated pumpkin stem was an everyday vanilla occurrence. 

He gargled into the apple, eyes rolling back into his skull as he added some extra seed to the pumpkin. Trying frantically to catch his breath, gather his wits, figure out how this would continue. 

Pumpkin fleshlight number two, followed too quickly by pumpkin fueled orgasm number two. The stem was most definitely focussed on making him come. It was churning up his insides, but some part of it was always pressed snug against Sam’s prostate. Pulsing and pushing till he creamed the pumpkin, only to watch panting for smoke-filled air as his seeded partner got carried off for some other magical or horticultural purpose.

He started crying after pumpkin three. Not the fact that they’d just had a harvest god milk another orgasm from him- no, he could somehow live with that- it was that there was a fourth pumpkin waiting eagerly behind the newly christened squash. And behind that, there was a fifth. 

**Author's Note:**

> you know the drill, I think. I am a hungry writer and comments nourish me please feed!


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